


It’s All a Matter of Ethics

by rains_dawn



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Camping, College Life, Do I have a tattoo kink?!, Do they have a tattoo kink?, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Slow Burn, Sneaking Around, Teacher-Student Relationship, Voyeurism, idk how to desribe this fic, kakashi and the great outdoors, national parks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:40:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27404428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rains_dawn/pseuds/rains_dawn
Summary: Of course Sakura falls for her college bioethics professor. Emphasis onethics.A teacher/student alternate universe fic.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura & Hatake Kakashi, Haruno Sakura/Hatake Kakashi
Comments: 37
Kudos: 133





	1. life or death?

**Author's Note:**

> Whoop whoop here's another fic. I feel bad because I'm slacking on Neighbors but I've been wanting to execute the idea of a teacher/student fic for SO LONG. 
> 
> Just to give you some background—I went to undergrad in Colorado, so a lot of the scenery in this fic is inspired by that. This isn't Konoha transplanted into modern times, unfortunately :/ So get ready for college parties, bar hopping, national parks, camping, and sexy sexy sexy times. Hope you enjoy!

Crisp mountain air breezes past her cheeks as she clutches a notepad to her chest. As she continues to walk her eyes begin to glisten with water from the wind, and she tries her best to brush them away with her gloved hands. They travel left and right to study the students racing from building to building—doing what they can to escape the cold wind. The bustling college town, nestled in a valley along a vast mountain range, is being bombarded by a winter storm. Evidently, something they’re quite used to. 

Still, she could have left if she wanted. But where she lives, she thinks, is paradise on earth. With the mountains flanking one side and a vast valley on the other. She couldn’t have asked for a better place to live, really. Even though it’s always been a rowdy college town. Ever since she was a kid.

It's Sakura’s junior year. More specifically, the last semester of her junior year. And if it hadn’t been so damn _cold_ in her flat that morning she would maybe have some more spring in her step. Instead, she had to settle for a lukewarm shower, put absolutely no effort into her appearance and settle for dragging her tired body as she made the, thankfully, small journey to the Biology and Health Policy building. It’s days like these she can’t help but be thankful she chose to live close to campus, when she could have just as easily fled from the underclassmen and done the opposite.

Despite that, she’s running late. She _knows_ she’s running late, and with the sudden surge of students bumping shoulders trying to get to their classes, a small bit of anxiety blooms in her stomach at the thought of having to climb _six_ flights of stairs to get to her first class. She finds herself at the staircase and makes the climb, huffing and puffing as she does so. The winter jacket she’s wearing does not help in the least, and it's at flight three that she realizes maybe she should have just taken the elevator. 

Because she can _not_ afford to be late for his class. 

Her first class is with Professor Hatake—who, of course, has quite a reputation of being difficult. Or so she’s heard. And sure, she’s had her fair share of “difficult” professors. But what does that even mean anymore? Tough graders? Do better and listen. They’re a bitch or an asshole? Get over it. They expect too much? Well, the job she hopes to get from this degree is meant to save people.

Even so...she can’t help but be nervous. 

She’s reached the landing when she hears a deep, “Excuse me,” rumble from behind her and she looks to the side to find a man dressed in slacks and a button down shirt climbing up the stairs two at a time. She has to pause for a moment as he continues on with ease and her mouth hangs in disbelief—

“What the…” 

“Forehead!”

She turns to find Ino and leans her back against the staircase as a small break, smiling as she watches her friend meet her at the landing. “What’s your first class again?” 

“Bioethics.” she breathes and Ino lets out a laugh. 

“Bio is top floor, yeah?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well,” Ino says as she makes her way to the third landing exit, “at least you’ll get a good workout in.” 

“Very funny.” she says and pauses before climbing up the next set of stairs, “where are you headed?” 

“Epi.” 

“Do you have a break after?” 

Ino nods her head and Sakura smiles. “Want to grab some coffee?” 

A satisfied groan escapes Ino’s mouth. “ _Yes,_ please. I’ve had a bitch of a morning.” 

“Hear, hear.” 

The two turn from each other as Sakura makes the next climb, using her hand on the rail to propel herself forward. She’s close to wrenching her winter coat off her damn body as she makes it to the _sixth floor_ landing and lets out a breath while opening the door to the hallway. Luckily the classroom is directly to her right and she walks in to find it relatively empty. If she were to hazard a guess her eyes detect maybe twelve or so people. It’s a small class, only about twenty students or so—so she hopes more show up in the next five minutes before it’s supposed to start. 

She makes her way to a desk and immediately peels off her jacket, gaze now at the front desk where it’s empty. Her nose wrinkles as she takes a seat and she can’t help but listen to the ambient chit-chat being held behind her. 

“I get heart palpitations thinking about this class.” 

“Oh _god,_ I know what you mean.” 

“This is going to be the hardest class I take here.” 

“I don’t understand why he’s the only one teaching this class.” 

Sakura turns around, unable to hold back as she offers a warry smile. “Hi,” she says quickly to gather their attention, “don’t mean to interrupt, but why are you guys so nervous? No reason I’m just curious I guess.” 

“Professor Hatake is known for being extremely difficult.” 

“Yeah, I know that but—”

“If he doesn’t agree with you then you’ll fail this class.” 

Sakura blinks. “Huh? This is ethics.”

“Well,” one student says with a shrug, “you better hope you agree with his stance on ethics, then.” 

Sakura huffs a sigh and crosses her arms as she turns back around. “Great.” 

A few minutes pass as the students continue to talk amongst themselves. Several more students trickle in, some a few minutes past the hour and Sakura can’t help the obsessive flick of her gaze to the door in search for an old, withered man she’s conjured up in her mind. Her eyes go between the door and the clock, watching the minute hand as it creeps closer to 15 minutes past the hour. 

“Come _on_.” someone behind her groans and she can’t help but agree as she rests her chin in her hand. “When’s the okay for us to leave?”

“I think 15 minutes.” another says. 

“Are you just saying that?” 

“No, I think I heard that somewhere.” 

“Well, I don’t want to leave and that bite me in the ass.” 

“Then give it anoth—”

Just then a man walks in. A man who she has to study for a good few seconds to realize that he’s not a student. And he’s probably not a TA either. He walks in with the authority of a professor or a doctor for her to realize that he _is_ their instructor and, not only that, the man who passed her in the stairwell. She’s able to study him more now as he drops a stack of papers on the front desk. His button down shirt is white and his slacks are a dark navy. And he looks _young,_ despite the color of his hair and the scar down left eye. She’d guess he’s in his thirties. Which she supposes isn’t actually that old for a college professor. 

“Sorry I’m late.” he says offhand as he circles to the front of the desk. “I had it out with the copy machine.” 

He takes a moment to study the class as she, and she suspects the rest of the students, look back awkwardly. Walking back to the front of the desk he says, “Place your desks in a circle.” 

Sakura’s nose wrinkles as she looks around to her other classmates who have now slowly gotten up and began to move their desks. She does the same, sliding hers over to meet the others to make a semi-circle. Professor Hatake brings a chair over and settles into it, leaning over with his elbows resting on the tops of his legs as he studies what she assumed to be the syllabus in his hands. He waits for everyone to get settled before passing them in one direction and when one reaches her hands, she looks down and pensively grabs for it.

“So, this is Bioethics.” he says after clearing his throat and sitting up in his seat. “If you flip over to the assignments…” he trails off and waits for everyone to find it, “most of your grade comes from in-class discussions.” 

Sakura’s brow wrinkles as she notices some of the other students shift uncomfortably in their seats. “If you're uncomfortable with speaking up then this is not the class for you.” 

_Yikes_ she thinks to herself as her gaze continues to shift from the students to the professor. Everyone continues to remain silent as he eyes the syllabus further. 

“Next is written assignments. There are 4 papers you’ll be required to write. No quizzes or exams.” 

“So in-class discussions and written reports are the entirety of our grades for this class?” a student next to her asks and he nods his head. 

“That’s correct.” 

The student next to her lets out a breath as a response and leans back in her seat. Professor Hatake flips to the class schedule, “The first half of the semester will focus on policy. This week is patient rights. Everyone know what I’m talking about when I say that?” 

“Advance directives, living wills…” Sakura trails off and Professor Hatake lets out a hum. 

“Yes. So we’ll be discussing your duty as healthcare professionals and what you can do to make sure you’re providing the best care for your patients.”

Sakura nods her head, as Professor Hatake leans back in his seat. “So, two options,” he breathes, “We can either call it a day and you all can look over the syllabus yourselves, or we can just get right into it.” 

She finds she doesn’t care either way, and to her surprise no one has spoken up. The professor makes a face and sighs as he leans back in his seat. “I’ll take your silence as opting to stay. As odd as that sounds. So let’s start with this: is it ethical for a physician to choose life if a patient is unable to communicate their needs?” 

“Do they have an advance directive?” Sakura first asks and he points to her. 

“Good point. What if they don’t?” 

“Then you have to choose life.” another student chimes in and the Professor leans back in his seat. 

“Do they?”

The class is silent and Professor Hatake lets out a small chuckle. “This is why we’re in ethics, guys. Not everything is so black and white.” 

Sakura fiddles with a pen in her right hand as she eyes the class. She leans forward in her chair, while gathering the attention of the professor. “It’s black and white if a patient has a living will or AD. Then physicians have to follow through. However…” she breathes and takes a moment to think. “You hear of physicians who violate patient’s wishes all the time.” 

“And why is that?” 

Sakura lets out a breath and shrugs her shoulders. “A number of reasons, really.” 

“Such as?” 

“Well, I think sometimes physicians think they’re making the better choice with choosing life. I forget what they call it…”

“Matter of conscience.” another student says and the professor nods his head. 

“It’s not always in the case of life though. A physician could choose death.” a different student points and after a few seconds the conversation divulges into deep conversation—almost every student making some kind of point. 

Sakura can’t help but notice the intense gaze from the professor any time she speaks. She does her best to remain flippant about it, only noticing for a second but when she speaks he makes sure to listen fully and offers to expand on her thoughts. It should make her feel good, and it does. Given the horror stories she’s heard about him. 

He doesn’t seem so bad. At least not yet. 

An hour and a half seems to fly by and before she’s made aware of her surroundings her classmates are already putting the room back to where it was. She does the same, watching as the students rush out the room and she’s about to do the same before noticing that the professor is watching her slightly as he gathers his own things.

“Productive day,” he says just as she gets ready to breeze out the door, “Haruno, right?” 

She pauses and realizes she hasn’t said anything before stammering a, “Yes,” surprised that she’s paused and opted to stay for whatever this is.

“Have you taken ethics before?” 

“I have, yeah.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah.” she confirms with a smile as she settles back into the room, her jacket hanging off her arm. “Not in medicine though. I’ve taken maybe…” she thinks for a second, “two others in my undergrad career.” 

“Two?” he asks in a surprised tone. 

“Yeah.” she confirms once more and laughs slightly. “I only just realized this now. I guess I have a thing for it.” 

“I’ll say.” 

“It only just occurred to me now.” she says with a helpless laugh. 

“Maybe you have an interest in it.” 

“Maybe.” she says with a nod of her head. “But I’ve always wanted to be a nurse.” 

“Oh?”

“Yes.” she responds and for some reasons she feels the need to ask, “What do you do? Er, I mean,” she stammers, “what did you do before this?” 

“Before teaching?” 

“Yeah.”

“I was in the army, actually.” 

She pauses a second, not quite understanding what she’s hearing and her eyes are now focused on his scar. She doesn’t dare ask if the two are related, but she does ask, “How on earth did you get here?” 

He laughs slightly. “That’s a discussion—“ he pauses as he lifts the stack of papers into his arms, “for another day.” 

She can’t help but return his laugh, albeit a bit more awkward, and she wonders if he’s just saying that or if they really will have another discussion another day. That same smile is on her face as she awkwardly decides to stay or leave. Ultimately, she decides to leave, murmuring a _see you next week_ as she skirts out the door. 

She makes her way to the stairs and a small sigh of relief escapes her lips after realizing she has a break and some much needed coffee awaiting her. 

Only she’s just now realizing she has a blizzard to walk through to get there. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment if you’d be so kind!


	2. a hazy dazy sunday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakura's a mess. As is Ino.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So so so happy you all enjoyed the first chapter! And I'm even more tickled by the fact that you all enjoyed that short debate. I work in healthcare so don't be surprised if you're reading through more debates in future chapters!
> 
> Anyway, on to this next installment!

“Do you want to get a tattoo this weekend?” 

Sakura quirks a brow. “Tattoo?” 

“Yeah.” Ino breathes as she leans her hip against Sakura’s opened refrigerator. “Been awhile since either of us got one.” 

“I don’t know…” she trails off, mindlessly staring at her reading for the next week. A yawn escapes her mouth at the realization that she has read a single sentence about twenty times now and she still has no idea what she’s reading about. So she figures now is as good a time as any to take a break. 

“What do you mean ‘you don’t know’? _”_

“I mean—look, you know what I’m saying. I never get a tat if it doesn’t mean something to me.” 

Ino snorts out a laugh. “Oh so what’s the _profound_ meaning behind the one you got below your tits? Huh?” 

Sakura can’t help but blush and throw the pillow she had perched herself on directly at her. “It’s true!” Ino squeals as she dodges and instead grabs a water bottle from the fridge.

“You’re terrible.” 

Her gaze follows Ino’s as she walks from the small kitchen to Sakura’s equally small living room. She plops herself down on the couch and turns on the TV as Sakura closes the book she had been studying. Gazing down at herself she does realize it’s been about a year since going under the needle. In truth, the one she got, as Ino so elegantly put it— _below her tits_ —was the last one she got simply because it hurt like an absolute _bitch_. And she swore to herself that she would take at least a year break. 

Which, technically, it’s been a year. 

She absentmindedly brings her hand to the area just below her breasts and touches it lightly. Memories flood her mind and she grimaces at the feel and how torturous it was. Don’t get her wrong—it was completely worth it. Even if back then she got it for a certain someone...not that Ino knew. And to her friend's knowledge, all it is is a random tattoo of cherry blossoms beneath her breasts.

She counts as she goes. One—the moon on the back of her left calf. Two—another flower mosaic on her right forearm. Three—an outline of a mountainscape which covers her upper back. Then four…

She’s quite happy with all of them, really. They’re artistic and dainty and in places that she can cover fairly easily. 

“So…?” she hears Ino pry from next to her with her eyes still glued to the television. 

A sigh escapes her lips as she shrugs. “I mean—yes, I would like to get one. Just, of what?”

“I don’t know. We could get matching ones.” 

Sakura tilts her head to the side and raises her brows, not finding the idea completely horrible. “I think I could get behind that.” 

“Great!” Ino says and clasps her hands together. “Of what?”

A sigh escapes Sakura’s lips and she lets out a helpless laugh, finding herself unable to even put effort into coming up with some sort of idea for the both of them. “I don’t know. Let’s just figure it out later.” 

“Alright.”  
  


Sakura turns her attention back to the television—her eyes becoming crossed as she finds she can’t focus on anything. Fatigue has blanketed her from head to toe and she all but gives up on the reading she promised herself she’d do sometime today. If her reading had to do with ethics...well. That’d be a whole other story. 

She’s not sure what it is about the subject that has the ability to enrapture her mind the way it does. She loves the conversations it elicits. She loves the debates. Loves to see the inner workings of her classmates. Even previous professors. And this one is no exception. 

_Now that’s a story for another time._

Her brow wrinkles slightly at the memory. Such an odd thing to say. To proclaim that there would be further conversation to be had about his personal life. Or he could be teasing her. 

She figures it's the latter. 

“Ugh! I’m bored.” she hears Ino suddenly exclaim and she jumps a bit. “Let's go do something.”

Sakura yawns. “Like what?”

“I don’t know but it’s only four in the afternoon and I don’t need you falling asleep on me.” 

“Alright.” Sakura says as she forces herself to a stand. She turns to face Ino, still seated on the couch and wiggles her brows. “Hike and get baked?”

Ino smiles. “Absolutely.”

* * *

  
  


She’s going to kill Shikamaru. Next time she crosses paths with him, she’s going to fucking _throttle_ him. Because she can’t see—let alone _think_ straight right now. Stumbling down a rocky path with her blonde friend hanging off her other side and trying their best not to fall down the damn mountain. 

She’s also really fucking hungry. 

“Sakura.”

“Shut up.” 

“Forehead.” 

“Not now.” 

“But _Sakura._ I’m hungryyy.” 

Sakura sighs and tries to ignore the grumbling in her stomach. “I am too but we need to worry about getting down this damn mountain first.” 

“What was in those edibles?” Ino whines and Sakura can’t help but whine with her. 

“I don’t know but I’m going to kill Shikamaru next time I see him.” 

“Can I come with you?”

“Sure.”

She’s thankful for the silence that blankets them, though at the same time it lulls her mind a bit too efficiently. She finds herself stumbling a bit more and with the added weight of Ino, she really fears they may not make it down. It’s funny, actually. Really funny when she envisions how they may look and soon she’s thrown herself into a fit of laughter which Ino does not appreciate _at all._

“What’s so funny?” Ino whines as she stumbles slightly and snorts in amusement. 

“Nothing—you.” Sakura corrects. 

“I’m a little funny. And a lot of hungry.”

“Me too.” 

“Do we want to call Ten and Temari?” 

“Yes. That way I can give her a message from us to her boyfriend.” 

“Okay, to be fair, we probably would have enjoyed this much more if we decided to stay at your house.” 

“You’re the one who wanted to leave!”

“Yeah but I didn’t think Shikamaru’s edible would leave us practically immobile!” 

Sakura groans and continues on with all her strength—doing her best to ignore Ino’s ramblings as she pulls out her phone and uses the hand not slung around Sakura’s neck to shoot their friends a text. 

After what feels like forever they finally manage to make it down from the vista and find themselves downtown—a few blocks away from a restaurant they all agreed to meet. On their way they pass the tattoo shop where both she and Ino have received every tattoo they currently have. They’ve circulated through most of the artists with the exception of a select few that take strict appointments, and they’re fortunate enough to receive discounts since Ino’s boyfriend happens to be an artist there—Sai. 

He really is an artistic genius. And the two pieces she’s received from him, the moon on her calf and mountainscape on her back, are both her absolute favorites. 

She can see Ino eyeing it out of the corner of her eye and she groans to herself hoping she doesn’t decide for them to make a detour. Though it seems she doesn’t since they walk right past it. A relieved breath escapes her lips as the two eye both Tenten and Temari, waiting outside—bouncing on their toes and hands in their pockets as they try to keep warm. Tenten looks up and Sakura notices a small smile tug at her lips.

_“_ Wow, you guys look _great.”_ Tenten jokes as Ino grumbles something unintelligible and Sakura lets out a helpless laugh. 

“Our hike wasn’t as relaxing as we thought it’d be.” 

“We’re gonna kill your boyfriend.” Ino interjects as she stands alone with her hands on her knees.

Temari quirks a brow at the both of them. “Geez, what happened?” 

“We hiked to the vista and each popped an edible from him.” 

_“No.”_ she responds in disbelief and Sakura’s shoulders slump. 

“What?”

“I took those with him the other day and we passed out in like, fifteen minutes.” 

Ino groans and rolls her eyes. “Well that explains it. Those things should have come with a fucking disclaimer or something.”

Sakura shrugs her shoulders, figuring there’s nothing they can do about it now and all she can seem to focus on is how damn _hungry_ she is. “So, what—is there a wait?”

“Yeah. twenty minutes.”

Sakura grimaces. “Well why the hell are you waiting out here, then?” 

“Too stuffy in the waiting area.” 

“Ah.” she says and they all resume waiting in a companionable silence—hands in their pockets and trying to keep warm now that the sun has set. She watches as Ino’s gaze flits about and occasionally lands and focuses on the tattoo shop that’s now about a block away. She already knows what she’s thinking before she says it—

“Let’s just go walk over there while we wait, talk to Sai and maybe he can draft something up for us. Okay?”

She groans but eventually nods her head in silent agreement, allowing her friend to drag her over towards the shop while the others wait for their table. She pulls her jacket tighter around herself and does her best to keep her bearings and not slip on whatever patches of black ice are left over from the previous week’s winter storm—despite Ino pulling her other arm. 

“What if he’s busy, though?”

“Well, I guess we’ll find out then.” 

“Look, I know he’s your boyfriend and all but—”

Sakura stops dead in her tracks, having to blink a few times to confirm what it is she’s seeing because she knows she’s still high out of her mind and unable to make a clear judgment. The halt in her step elicits an unnecessarily loud groan from Ino as she turns. “What? Come on we don’t have all ni—”

“Ino shutthefuckup and come here.” Sakura whispers tightly as she grabs Ino by the arm and stumbles into a novelty shop across from the tattoo parlor. 

“Whaaat?” Ino groans once more as Sakura peers out the window of the shop. Her eyes don’t deceive her. No they certainly do not. Because they follow a very familiar, very _unique_ head of white hair, walk into the tattoo shop both she and Ino were just heading to. And he seems to be with a friend as well—because a man with dark, almost black hair follows closely behind him, though not before putting out his cigarette outside.

Ino’s voice breaks through her concentration once more. “Okay, are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

“That’s my professor.” she deadpans and feels Ino come closer behind her. 

“Huh?”

_“My professor._ He just walked into the tattoo shop.” 

“What?” Ino says, a hint of amusement in her voice as she stares along with Sakura. “Which one?”

“White hair.” 

Sakura is met with silence as the two continue to observe, their efforts at remaining stealthy not very successful due to several people who have already paused to give them looks. Professor Hatake and his friend both walk in, and she continues to watch as someone comes out from the back to greet them. The man has brunette hair and something sticking out from his mouth that he periodically chews on. He shakes Professor Hatake’s hand and she watches with wide eyes as he sheds off his jacket and rolls up his sleeves. A confused expression replaces her previous shock as she finds his one arm almost completely covered. The other is bare and she has to blink a few times as she thinks back to class and realizes she had not noticed _at all._

Though, she supposed with the strategic placement of her own no one would notice either. 

“So, wait, _that’s_ your professor?”

“I said white hair, did I not?”

“Okay, when someone says _white hair_ I don’t exactly think _that.”_

“Think what?” Sakura asks, oblivious to whatever Ino’s implying. 

“Uh, he’s _hot_ Sakura. H.O.T.” she spells out and Sakura can not roll her eyes hard enough. 

“Whether he’s hot or not doesn’t matter—we’re not going in there anymore.”

She feels Ino pull away and Sakura looks back to find her crossing her arms with a dissatisfied look on her face. “Why the hell not?” 

Sakura groans and her shoulders slump, desperate to not have to argue against her. “Ino, _please._ I really don’t want to anymore. I’m too delirious to have a proper conversation right now.”

“Oh don’t be such a baby. He’s just your professor. Professor’s know their student’s get high.” Ino says as she grabs Sakura by the arm again but she pulls away. 

“No!” she exclaims and wrenches her arms back. “I’m being serious. He’s not the easiest professor and I don’t want to get on his bad side.” 

Ino throws her a helpless look. “How on earth would this get you on his bad side? If anything it’s something you have in common.” 

“And why does that matter?” she asks and Ino shrugs her shoulders. Sakura shakes her head and begins to walk back towards their group of friends. “Look, another time, okay? I know it’s weird and I can’t explain it but I just don’t want to be running into professors outside of school. It’s weird.” 

Ino shoots her a look. “Okay, _that’s_ weird. You’re weird. But, whatever.” 

“Thank you.” Sakura sighs as they loop arms and begin to walk towards their friends. 

Despite everything she said she can’t help but look out of the corner of her eye—now that curiosity has gotten the best of her. She can still see the both of them—Professor Hatake gesturing to the lower part of his other arm. Putting two and two together, she figures the man he’s speaking with is probably his artist, and she can’t help but wonder what the others look like. What sort of sleeve he has on his other arm. Tickle her intrigued, because for some odd reason a tattoo parlor was the last place she’d think to run into a college professor. 

Based on her current intel she figures the man inspecting his arm is his long-time artist. What with the friendly smiles and pats on the shoulder. He watches as the man with whatever it is hanging out of his mouth gesture to a back room and the three all but disappear. She lets out a dissatisfied grunt and turns back around—now left to wonder what would have happened if she just walked in with Ino. 

* * *

A gaggle of girls is certainly how they look as they stumble out the restaurant, arms intertwined around one another as they giggle and are thrown into fits of laughter. 

She knew they shouldn’t have ordered that bottle of red wine. On a _Sunday_ night. How sacrilegious of them.

But she can’t be bothered—because her cheeks are a wonderful shade of rosy red, her stomach is full and she feels a welcome warmth inside her body in contrast to the cool winter night. Her arm is looped around Ino’s as they offer more warmth to one another. Almost to the point of being too hot. Sakura’s gaze flits over to the tattoo parlor where the overhead lights are out, indicating that it’s closed. Her brows wrinkle, wondering if Professor Hatake is still there and then promptly wonders why she even cares to know. Though she can’t deny the intrigue. 

She turns away and instead focuses her attention to what’s ahead and feels Ino promptly let go. “You gonna be okay from here?”

Sakura nods her head as she pulls her jacket closer. “Yeah. I’m not too far gone.” she jokes. In reality, she feels perfectly fine and it’s honestly just the high of the night and being in good company that has her in such high spirits compared to a few hours before. 

Ino nods her head and waves, heading in the opposite direction to her own apartment—the other two now far gone and up the street. Sakura lets out a tired sigh as she continues on the short walk to her flat, looking left and right to take count of the few people still lingering about. There’s a much frequented coffee shop to her left, though it’s practically empty now and two people are seated inside by the large window. 

Her brow wrinkles for just a second but then her eyes widen at the white hair that surprised her earlier. From the short distance between them she can see that his other arm is wrapped but is unable to decipher what exactly had been done. Pausing for a moment, she decides whether it would be a good idea to go in and get a coffee, though she ultimately decides against it, and, in her inability to move at that moment, finds herself in the path of his gaze. 

He’s now looking out the window and directly at her. And she knows she must look a complete _idiot_ as recognition sets in and he offers her a friendly wave. She does so in response and notices the way he chuckles and turns his attention back to his friend, enough time for her to skirt her way out of there. 

It was the briefest of communications. A small wave. 

So why did it leave her shaking with adrenaline on her walk home?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, yes. I've turned the characters in this alternate universe into pot-heads. But, it's college. And inspired by my time in Colorado. And I've always wanted to dabble with the whole innocent/has a wild side Haruno. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed and please leave a comment!


	3. more questions with little answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakura has a "run-in" with Professor Hatake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back with another chapter! Starting stories is a little challenging sometimes if I'm not sure where I'm going with it, but I have a clear outline for what the next few chapters will look like so hopefully the next few updates won't take nearly as long.
> 
> Also, this story is un-beta'd atm. So all mistakes are my own.

The next few weeks practically flew by. And it was in those weeks that Sakura began to realize why it was that her ethics professor was revered in such a negative way. Not necessarily in a way that directly affected her but…

Yeah. She genuinely felt for her classmates whenever they were subject to a battle of wits with Professor Hatake, who, obviously, was much more versed in the wide world of health ethics. She sometimes wondered if he used it to his advantage. That he maybe had some egotistical tendencies—which would explain his “trigger” moods. 

But she’s since learned to navigate those. 

She received a modest “85” on her first paper on how legality and ethics intertwine. And, mistakenly, she felt perhaps _special_ enough to challenge it. Which she received with a kind yet firm, “Your grade is final. Especially since it was the highest in the class.” In that moment, she fought back the urge to tell him he sets impossible standards but figured he’d find it amusing in some way, so she decided against it. 

She also had to fight the urge to ask him what it was that brought him to visit the same tattoo shop she frequents—and what it was he had done. Who he sees. How many he has. What they were. _Where_ they are. 

You know— _normal_ questions you want to ask your professor. 

She would find herself in class, chewing on the end of her pen with a heavy feeling in her eyes as they would settle on his arms. His sleeves were always pulled down, leaving her with only her imagination as she remembered what she suspected to be a half sleeve on his arm. The thought made her mouth water any time she thought of it, and kicking herself mentally would follow soon after at the realization that she may be developing a little bit of a crush on her college ethics professor. 

Then again, who wouldn’t? And who _hasn’t?_

But Sakura is nothing more than a normal college girl who is secretly fawning over him in her dreams. There’s a 0 percent chance that he sees anything remarkable about her, in that way. It’s clear he finds her intelligent, but that’s the most admiration she expects. Because he’s smart. Unbelievably so. And she knows the thought hasn’t even crossed his mind. 

So now, lying in her bed, she can do little else but stare up at the ceiling and think of him and his tatted up arms as she remains wide eyed—unable to fall back asleep. She shifts in her bed to stare at her alarm clock which flashes “5:30” to her over and _over_ until the 30 changes to 31. A groan escapes her lips as she swings her legs over and sits up, making peace with the fact that she will not be getting the two more hours of sleep she so desperately needs. 

The sight of her running sneakers lying by the door catches her gaze and she pinches her brows—realizing it’s been a few days since she’s had a proper run. And with the start of spring fast approaching, she knows the temperatures will fair well for her. Without any further thought, she pulls on some black thermal pants and a long sleeve shirt, some gloves and a grey beanie as she laces up her shoes last. She opens the door leading into her living room and quickly prepares a batch of coffee to be ready for her when she returns. Stepping out her front door, she leaps down the steps and does a few stretches before bounding off towards the trail by the river—a place she doesn’t go often enough.

The stillness of winter was always a comfort to Sakura. How everything was always so quiet—especially when it snows. Snow was Sakura’s favorite type of weather, mostly because of how peacefully _quiet_ the world would get except for the pitter patter of snow fall. The scurrying of animals. The brightness of night at the shimmering white that blanketed the ground. 

For the past few weeks it had snowed at least every weekend, leaving traces everywhere she went. The days brought warmth which reminded her spring was just around the corner, but then the nights would turn a bitter cold once again. And she loved it. 

She can see her breath puff out in front of her as she continues to jog along the river, noticing that she hasn’t seen a _single_ person since she left the apartment. She figures to relish in it now, knowing that once spring does, indeed, come, there will be barely any room to get a decent workout in. What with walkers, bikers, or just people hanging out, she knows it won’t be as peaceful a time she’s experiencing now. 

She then realizes she spoke too soon, because if she squints _just_ hard enough, she can see the outline of a person who is running in a similar stride as she. She slows a bit, not wanting to outrun them just yet as she can’t really make out a head. And it’s then that she realizes it’s because it’s the same color of white as the snow around them. And she _then_ begins to connect the dots further at the realization that she only knows of one person with white hair like _that._

Her feet threaten to pause and run back to her apartment—but her head is playing tricks on her and pulls her towards the man who continues to run further and further away from her. She bites her lip, hard, and feels her feet push off into a slow jog. Because there’s nothing wrong with following him for just a little bit…

Right? Right. 

So she sets off to do just that. Running at a reasonably slow pace as she takes in the back of him. She passes the bridge he’s already run under and starts to take in the state of his dress. She notices a black hoodie, black shorts and black compression pants underneath. For warmth. But it seems too _damn_ hot for that all of a sudden. 

Hit with the realization that she can’t just keep up with the loose follow—she comes up with the asinine idea of just _passing_ him, after finding she’s coming up on him a bit quick. As she finds herself growing nearer and nearer, her gaze flickers for a split second to her left, finding he’s looking straight ahead with headphones in his ears—and he seems startled by the fact that someone is to his immediate right. She shoots her gaze forward fast enough for him to not notice, and after passing him she hears a quick, “Ms. Haruno?” being called from behind her. 

She does her best to put on her most convincing surprised face and looks back with a face full of, what she hopes, is genuine shock. With a mix of confusion. “Oh!” she says and stops, watching as he stops to meet her. “Professor Hatake.” she acknowledges and watches as he takes his earphones out of his ears. 

“Good morning.” he says a bit slowly and surprised that he’s seeing her so early in the morning. “Do you normally run this trail?” 

“Uh,” she starts and shrugs her shoulders slightly, “No. Well, kind of. Not like, every day. Just when I can’t sleep and feel like running. Which happened this morning.”

“Ah, okay.” he says. “I was just surprised. I’m on this trail every morning and don’t typically run into anyone.” 

“Ha. Run.” she laughs. “I see the pun there.” she points out and her heart clenches when he smiles and rolls his eyes slightly. 

“I didn’t mean to.” 

There’s a brief bit of silence that passes and she knows he’s about to bid farewell before a bit of word vomit comes out, “Do you want to just run this last stretch together?” 

She tries to remain indifferent and reconcile with the fact that he could say no, and she can tell the gears are working in his brain. She prepares herself for rejection but then notices a slight curl in his lips before he says, “Sure.” 

She nods as the two break out into a relatively comfortable jog. The nervousness she felt from him seems to have subsided and she feels a small smile tug on her lips. He stuffs his earbuds into his pockets and it’s then that she realizes she can strike a conversation with him. But she finds herself completely stumped. 

_Great._ her inner monologue kicks in. _The one time you actually get to be alone with him you have nothing to say._

Though, that’s not entirely true. She has a _million_ things she wants to say. And ask. But she’s too nervous to find it in herself to do so. She could ask one thing. One _little_ thing. And it’s about the tattoo parlor. What has been plaguing her mind for the few weeks that have passed since then. She so desperately wants to know. Even just the smallest confirmation that he does, in fact, have tattoos which would further add to her fantasies. 

She’s utterly ridiculous. A ridiculous human being. 

_Oh, just do it Haruno._

“So...uh,” she manages to get out and takes a breath, “I was out with my girlfriends that one night I saw you at the coffee shop.” 

“Yeah.” is his only response. 

“Well, I, uh, couldn’t help but notice,” she takes another breath, “you go to the same tattoo shop I go to.” 

He pauses for a second. “Wait, what?” 

Her eyes widen at the accusatory tone in his voice. She wonders if she’s maybe said too much. Insinuated that she was perhaps _stalking_ him and she feels herself scrambling for an explanation. “Oh, I didn’t mean to—”

“You have tattoos?” 

She blinks. “Oh.” Looking forward, she quickly dodges a stick lying on the ground. “Um, yeah, I do.” she responds and tries to set her mind right again. “So, yeah, I was in a shop with one of my friends and saw you walk in. My friend and I get ours there too.” 

“Oh...cool.” he says, though she can tell there’s a lot of thought behind the simple phrase. She looks over for the briefest of seconds and finds that he’s scanning her body slightly. She has to suppress a nervous laugh as the feeling is mutual—spending many a lecture stealing glances at his covered arms and wondering what’s painted underneath them. 

_Ask. Ask me where they are. Please just ask. I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you everything. I’ll even tell you about the one below my tits._ is what she wants to scream from the tops of her lungs but the questions don’t come. He doesn’t ask anything further and disappointment sits deep in her stomach. 

They continue to run at an even pace. The silence begins to slowly numb her mind and her thoughts race wondering just _what_ it is he’s thinking about. Why did he seem surprised? Why did he say “cool” the way he did? Why was that all he had to say about it? Was it a good thing or a bad thing? 

She was so immersed in her thoughts that she didn’t hear the question he had asked her. She hums to him and looks in his direction slightly, urging him to ask again.

“Who is the artist you see?” 

“Oh, um, Sai. You may not know him.” 

“I do.” he corrects.” Not well, but I know _of_ him. He does some pretty unique stuff.” 

“Yeah. His style suits mine.” she points and he nods his head. 

“Right. I go to Genma. He and I are long time friends.” 

“Is that why you go to him?” she asks and he shakes his head. 

“He happens to get my style. It’s...a bit abstract.” he says in a calculated way. 

“Abstract?”

“Yeah…” he says with a small chuckle at the end. “I don’t really know how to describe it.”

“I mean, you could just show me.” she says without completely understanding the gravity of her words. For a moment she thinks she’s made an irreversible mistake but, thankfully, he laughs. A bit of a strained laugh and they slow to a walk. He places his hands on his lower back as they walk the last few steps to the end of the trail which ends at the start of downtown. 

He doesn’t respond right away. She wonders if he may ignore her request all together. It was inappropriate of her. She knows this. But it’s too late for her to take it back now. 

“Maybe when you’re not my student anymore.” he finally says. He doesn’t look at her. She wishes he would. But he only continues to stare just past her and down the street that’s beginning to fill with the morning commute cars. She, of course, wants to know what he means. If there’s some “hidden” meaning. There’s also the possibility it’s all just in her head. Another fabrication of hers. And it makes her feel like a fool. 

But then he looks down at her. And the look he gives—it’s a look that is filled with an imposing silence as he focuses on her. With a slight shimmer in his eye that could have easily been missed. It makes her breath catch in her throat. And makes her feel like she’s treading in something she has no business messing with. 

“I’ll see you in class tomorrow, Ms. Haruno.” is the last thing he says before the light turns and he’s able to cross the intersection safely. He doesn’t allow her enough time to respond. Not even to say a simple goodbye before he breaks out into another jog in the direction of what she assumes is his home. 

She allows herself a moment to catch her breath and process what just happened before realizing she has to somehow jog all the way back home. 

* * *

  
  


There’s no debate in class today. 

And truly—she’s grateful for it. Because for the entire day beforehand she locked herself in her apartment to compartmentalize and pick apart every aspect of their conversation which really only lasted maybe 15 minutes. It didn’t seem like much, but when she thought about it, so much had been said. 

She ultimately grew tired of obsessively thinking about it and eventually fell asleep. She felt childish. And like any other student of his who found him both attractive and utterly intolerable in the classroom. 

Still, she had received the highest grade for their first assignment —even if it _was_ an 85. 

So now, instead of being arranged in a circle like usual, they’re all facing forward and subject to a lecture he is presenting on medical malpractice. Unlike the others who have fallen asleep due to the overhead lights being out, she finds herself incredibly captivated by the presentation, more so due to his voice and manner of speaking. She had always possessed this odd desire for men who knew a lot and could speak _a lot_ about a subject. She couldn’t explain why, but watching him go on and on about something of relative interest to her and in a passionate way just set her skin ablaze. He seems so confident. So natural. In how he speaks and how he moves. She just can’ttake her eyes off of him. 

Her gaze travels to his arms—defined under the white collared shirt he’s wearing and a cheeky thought suddenly materializes in her head. She smirks to herself, suddenly remembering the mosaic on her arm and, if she so dares, can give him a sneak peak—that is, if she feels that's what he wanted during that odd exchange. And that is the great question, isn’t it? If he does. Or if this is all in her head. 

It’s such a simple action. To just roll your sleeves up. She can do it without thinking about it. So why does it feel like such a _task?_ To just _roll_ up her shirt sleeve. It’s preposterous that the thought makes her sweat. 

So she does it. 

It’s as effortless as she can make it. Pushing her one sleeve up and placing her chin back on her hand as she listens to him. She’s watching obsessively—waiting for him to notice. The room is still so dark, with only the presentation illuminating the room. She would even go as far as saying he may not even be able to see her. 

But when his gaze scans the room once more, eyes drifting from student to student, silently scolding with his eyes (the ones who are asleep), she sees his eyes widen for just a split second at her covered forearm. His brow scrunches, his nostrils flare, he clears his throat at the end of his sentence—

And he resumes the presentation. 

She’s unsure whether to be disappointed or unsurprised. What was she expecting anyway? For him to gasp and choke and stop his presentation? To think that would be absurd. Though at the same time, she wishes he had given her a more telling reaction. 

He...didn’t really give her anything. If she’s being honest with herself. 

She sits back in her chair and blows a piece of hair out of her face, not bothering herself to take any notes on the presentation in front of her. She can’t bring it in herself to focus on much else less surrender herself to her daydreams. 

* * *

  
  


The apartment is filled with a haze. She’s unsure of _why_ she allowed Temari to bring a few blunts over, but she did. And now she can’t focus on the tantalizing notes on microbiology in front of her. She’s read the same sentence over and over. A place she’s been before. Though she’s unsure if it’s because she’s high or genuinely just can’t focus—since cannabis doesn’t usually have that effect on her. 

“Hey, so I’m having a party this Saturday.” she hears Temari say before passing the blunt over to Ino. 

Sakura makes a face. “And Shika is letting you?” 

Temari shrugs. “He hasn’t said anything otherwise.” 

“That’s surprising.” 

“Well, I’m not going to question it.” 

“Probably wise.” 

It sounds fun—a party thrown by Temari rather than Ino. Because there _is_ a difference. Ino’s parties are complete blowouts. Random people would just show up. Neighbors would complain. But Temari is tough enough to do something if she catches wise of anyone she knows shouldn’t be there. 

Especially when she’s everyone’s supplier, and it’s not like she’s just going to give her shit out for free. 

Sitting in a room filled with smoke, she can’t help but snort to herself. Ino makes a face and asks, “What?”

Sakura shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s just funny. Remember in high school when we were all so innocent and couldn’t imagine doing stuff like this?”

Ino laughs. “I remember _you_ being like that.” 

“Oh, come on.” 

“It’s true! Miss Goody Two-Shoes.” Temari just nods in agreement. 

“But now,” Ino says while taking a puff, “we’re doing this, have tattoos, going to parties, _crushing on professors.”_ she says underneath her breath and Sakura chokes. 

Temari blinks. “Wait, what?” 

“Oh she didn’t tell you? Sakura is crushing _hard_ on her bioethics professor.” 

“Ino!” Sakura seethes. 

Temari looks over to Sakura. “Really?” 

“I mean…”

“Temari,” Ino says while passing the blunt over, “He’s _hot.”_

“Well, I mean, it’s normal to crush on professors—”

“No, Temari, he’s like,” Ino throws her a suggestive look, “Like _I_ would do something about it hot.” 

“Well, you can’t.” 

“Obviously.” Sakura finishes and rolls her eyes. 

There’s a bit of silence as Sakura gnaws at her bottom lip. She doesn’t _have_ to tell them. In all honesty, she shouldn’t, but what’s wrong with a bit of indulgence on her end?

“I ran into him yesterday morning. While running.” 

Sakura made the mistake of saying that while Temari was inhaling and suddenly was in a fit of coughs and gasps. “Wait,” a cough and a wheeze, “ _what?”_

Ino has the same reaction, though she looks like she’s been shot through the chest. “Same.” 

“What happened?!” Temari reiterated while putting the blunt down on the table. 

“I was just running along the river and I guess he was too.” 

When there was a pause and Sakura didn’t say anything further Temari and Ino exchanged crazy looks. “And?!”

“We...ran the last bit together.” 

“Oh my god, no you didn’t.” 

Ino dramatically falls off her chair and lies on the ground as Sakura begins the story. “Yeah, uh, I sorta decided to just run past him and see if he noticed and, yeah, he did.”

“And what? He was just like, “yo, wait up?”

“No, he said my name and I turned around and tried to act surprised.” 

“Do you think you did?”

“I think so, yeah.” 

“And then what?” 

“Uh, well, that was when we ran the last bit together. I asked.” 

“ _You_ asked?” Ino chimed in from the floor. 

“Yeah...is that bad?” 

Ino and Temari both take a moment to think—silent and staring up towards the ceiling. 

“Well,” Ino starts, “Let’s just say if _he_ had asked, we’d be having a different conversation.” 

Teamri nods. “Yeah that’d be more of a game-changer.” 

“I mean, it’d be kind of inappropriate if he asked, so I decided to. And he didn’t have to agree.” 

“But it’d be awkward if he didn’t.” Ino says. 

Sakura groans and sits back in her chair while Temari sighs. “Well, did you guys talk about anything else?” 

“Yeah.” Sakura says and bites her lip. “I sort of brought up that night I saw him go into the tattoo shop.” 

Ino shoots up from her position on the floor. “No, you didn’t.” 

“...I did.” 

“Oh my god, Forehea—”

“I really don’t like when you call me—”

“Yeah, well, this warrants a ‘Forehead’.” 

Sakura groans. “Should I really not have brought it up?”

“That depends, what was his response?” 

Sakura takes a moment to think. He didn’t really address what she said. More so asked his own question about whether she had tattoos or not. Then again, it wasn’t so much a question rather than a statement, because she all but confirmed it for him by bringing it up in the first place. 

“He asked, ‘wait, you have tattoos?’.”

Ino and Temari pause. “He asked that?” 

“Yes.” 

Ino tilts her head and taps her chin. “How did he ask it?”

Sakura groans. “Does it matter?” 

“ _Yes_ it matters. And don't lie and say you haven’t analysed it to oblivion.” 

“Fine.” Sakura huffs and crosses her arms. “He said it, like...I don’t know. It wasn’t really curious. It was kind of a statement. And I caught him...looking at me. Like he had x-ray vision or something.” 

“Or wish he did.” Ino grumbles. 

Sakura feels her cheeks get red and leans back in her chair once more. She looks over to Temari, who looks to still be deep in thought. “Well, if it _is_ something, he’s doing everything he can to make sure it’s not. Which is what he should be doing.” 

“I haven’t even told you the best part.” Sakura mumbles. Ino shoots her an expectant look while Temari just looks...nervous. “We were talking about tattoos a little bit and I sort of let it slip that he could show me his.” Ino looks like she’s holding in a squeal while Temari closes her eyes. “And he said maybe when I’m not his student anymore.” 

“No he _didn’t!”_ Ino exclaims as her mouth hangs wide open. Sakura nods her head and glances over to Temari who has a rather expressionless look on her face. 

“What?” 

“He shouldn’t have said that.” 

“Why not?! It’s so _suggestive.”_ Ino exclaims. 

“Exactly. It’s...I don’t know. It could still mean nothing. Even so. He could get in _a lot_ of trouble for saying stuff like that.” 

Sakura nods her head—slowly. Because she knows she’s right. He really shouldn’t have said that. And from what she can remember, it took him a while to even get it out. That itself is telling...but she can’t concern herself with it. Not when she’s so close to graduation. 

She can’t afford the distraction. And in the end, she knows her cynicism will win. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember to drop a comment, pretty please! Each one leaves a big smile on my face :)))


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